the society to be met there could not fail to be alloyed by some of the black sheep of what is called "the fashionable world," but who, from their external appearance and correct behaviour, rendered detection difficult, even by those whose experience of mankind had been long and general. No disparagement this to the White Posts, for

"Where the palace where foul things intrude not?"

A constant visitor was Mr. Robert Ruby; a man of gentlemanly bearing, although somewhat of an ancient dandy, being apparently between fifty and sixty years of age. His clothes were cut with scrupulous regard to his fine figure, and he wore a full-curled brown wig (once known as a George the Fourth), a purple cravat, and kid gloves of a delicate lemon colour. His Wellington boots were faultless in their polish and fit, whilst his Stanhope hat was black and glossy as a raven. He usually dined alone, and seemed to have a limited acquaintance

for a man who resided so much in London, and who evidently had his time at his own disposal. He was by no means averse to the society of strangers, and made himself particularly agreeable to those whom he felt disposed to entertain.

He was not altogether unknown to a few of the most respectable frequenters of the White Posts, and who would sometimes. recognise him by a slight bow, but rarely courted a closer intimacy. The personal friends that now and then dined with him appeared to be equally respectable and unrecognised. He was a liberal guest and paymaster, and consequently stood high in the good opinion of James, the waiter.

But why envelope Mr. Ruby in a cloud of mystery? His pursuits and character were well known to many a ruined spendthrift and thoughtless scapegrace about town, and who recognised in the seeming gentleman the professed blackleg and pro

prietor of more than one gaming-house in the bye streets of St. James.

His gains were known to have been considerable, and he was reckoned in the playworld a man of honour, exact in the fulfilment of his engagements, and punctual in the payment of his debts.

There were stories of kind actions done by old Bob Ruby, and many more of clever knavery and successful speculation on the turf and at the gaming-table. None knew more than this; none knew his origin or his family connexions, or whither he went for days altogether, always alone and secretly. By-and-bye we shall learn his story.

The London season was over, and the White Posts had lost many of its accustomed visitors; but Mr. Ruby was seated in his favourite corner, at dinner, with a young man whose acquaintance he had made the preceding day. The only other occupant of the room was a vulgar, cunning looking person, soberly dressed, and whose

time appeared of great value, as he ate rapidly, and devoured the newspaper at the same time; now taking a mouthful of food, and now a paragraph of information. A blue bag lay on a chair beside him, and declared him to be a member of the legal profession,-"a gentleman, &c." by Act of Parliament, and nothing else. Ever and anon he threw a furtive glance at Ruby and his young companion, and a faint smile played like a jack-o'-lantern, for a moment, over his rugged features. Mr Goad evidently knew Mr Ruby.

When Mr Goad was in the act of paying his bill, taking exception to every item, a gentleman entered the room and made his way to the table at which the grumbling lawyer was seated. There was something remarkably striking in the appearance of the new comer. He appeared to be about thirty years of age, although his hair was nearly white, except his moustache, and that was dark brown. His bearing was

soldierly, and he had the easy confidence of a man accustomed to society. He had recognised Ruby also, but no sign of intimacy passed between them.

"Ah! Captain Wagstaff," said Goad, "how do you do? You're used to these places-I'm not just glance over that bill, and tell me if the charges are not disgraceful?"

"Not in the least," replied Wagstaff, scarcely regarding the proffered paper, "for the White Posts. Sit down, Goad, and have a glass of wine."

"No wine for me! Never take wine at these places. I've already paid two shillings and ninepence, and owe the waiter his penny," answered Goad.

"Pshaw! the wine is my affair," said Wagstaff, and this liberal assurance overcame the lawyer's objection.

When the waiter had placed the wine upon the table, the Captain observed in a low whisper to Goad:-" Ruby is at the